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<title>The End of Something or Other by ProbablyJozo (TheCopperSoulBox)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816638">The End of Something or Other</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCopperSoulBox/pseuds/ProbablyJozo'>ProbablyJozo (TheCopperSoulBox)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Running, Slight Suicidal Ideation, mentions of past catastrophe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:22:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,250</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCopperSoulBox/pseuds/ProbablyJozo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>My only warning is her fingers circling my wrist before we’re running, quick and nimble through the debris and the flames and, eventually, the dark oak of the forest. Gravel shifts under our feet, loose and dusty—it would be so easy to slip, to land one step wrong on the uneven ground and lose balance, sending pain to unsuspecting limbs. As it stands, we’ve run these paths many times (although never with the same level of ecstatic desperation), so our pace stays steady even as rocks turn to dirt and the trees grow denser with every step.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>A pair of survivors run from disaster and talk once they have a moment of calm.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The End of Something or Other</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I found this in my drive and thought "fuck it, let's post." This is from several months ago.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My only warning is her fingers circling my wrist before we’re running, quick and nimble through the debris and the flames and, eventually, the dark oak of the forest. Gravel shifts under our feet, loose and dusty—it would be so easy to slip, to land one step wrong on the uneven ground and lose balance, sending pain to unsuspecting limbs. As it stands, we’ve run these paths many times (although never with the same level of ecstatic desperation), so our pace stays steady even as rocks turn to dirt and the trees grow denser with every step.</p>
<p>I’m the one who gives in to the burn of the run first, and a slight stumble caused by the ache in my legs is what brings her attention back to me. Immediately, she comes to a halt, and it’s only experience that stops me from crashing into her.</p>
<p>We take a moment to breathe, let the situation catch up to us somewhat; the thrill of the run pulls a shaky laugh out of me, and I can see that her eyes are bright with a fire that has always brought both excitement and trouble. We don’t let the dread settle in, not yet—to think in that moment is to drown ourselves in the weight of what’s happened, and we both know that we’ll crash back to reality in due time. For now, we’re just two people in the middle of a forest, delirious from the high of escape and grasping onto that feeling with iron grips.</p>
<p>Her hand still has a grip on my wrist so I pull away, instead threading our fingers together in a more solid hold (an act of promise, of solidarity, and nothing more). Then, with a shared grin that says more than any words could, we take off again, and this time I’m the one leading at a pace that’s more confident than desperate.</p>
<p>Eventually, we break the tree line and find ourselves in a clearing. Some number of metres away, the ground drops into a cliff; beyond that is an ocean, the view of distant mountains and cities beyond the waters a familiar sight. Her hand slips from mine and she strides forward with a content smile, lowering herself to the ground and swinging her legs over the cliff in a movement I’ve seen her do a million times before. Aiming to join her, I step forward myself—only to freeze as my gaze lowers to the water below.</p>
<p>It's so much darker than I remember, blue turned black by the depth of the ocean. Like a void, it seems to reach out, beckoning me to approach (to fall) and find out what lies beneath the surface. In this moment, I come to the realisation that despite how often I've visited this cliff, I've never seen what's beneath the waves with my own two eyes. The temptation that comes over me is terrifying in its own right.</p>
<p>I tear my gaze away.</p>
<p>“What's wrong?” she asks, the first words spoken to the air since we left to run from the flames. When I meet her gaze, it's filled with concern—but behind it still lies a flash of excitement. However the ocean had sobered my mind obviously hasn't affected her.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” I reply, part of me not willing to voice how close I came to throwing myself off the cliff, and part of me privy to the thought that there’s more to the problem than I’m entirely aware of. A drop of the reality I’d refused to acknowledge before sneaks into my chest, but I don’t let it settle for fear of drowning on dry land, especially when the water is mocking me from below.</p>
<p>“You don’t know?” she repeats with a laugh, and though it’s a relief to hear the mirth in her voice, I know she’ll soon tumble down too. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. Can’t expect everything from a single person.”</p>
<p>“Most people would usually insist that I should know,” I argue, although I don’t know why. Finally, I bring myself to sit, further away from the edge than she is, which she doesn’t seem to mind.</p>
<p>“Most people don’t know anything but their own damn minds,” she retaliates. “They couldn’t fathom anybody else’s brain working differently. But I say, if you don’t know, then that’s completely fine.”</p>
<p>Every word is spoken with a level of conviction I could only dream of having, but still something doesn’t sit right in my chest. Unable to brush it off, I blurt out the first thing I think to say: “What are you afraid of?”</p>
<p>“...What?”</p>
<p>Her gaze has turned bewildered and calculating, as if she’s trying to figure out where that came from, and I can only shrug under her questioning eyes. “You heard me. Right here, right now—what are you afraid of?”</p>
<p>A couple seconds of staring go by before she shakes her head, seemingly deciding to indulge me for now, and I can only be grateful. “Well, you already know I’m not the biggest fan of snakes,” she begins, and I can’t help but huff out a laugh at the shiver that runs through her at the thought of them. “But right now?” She trails off, considering, before turning and gesturing to the forest we emerged from. “I guess...going back there.”</p>
<p>“What, going back to the forest?” I ask. “Or the town?”</p>
<p>“The town,” she clarifies, and I can already see how the previous adrenaline is starting to wear off her as well, grounding her once again. “And I guess the forest too, to an extent, but...there’s nothing left there for us. Nothing but rubble.”</p>
<p>“Nothing we used to know,” I say, nodding along.</p>
<p>This time, I can clearly see the reality setting in, and her realisation sends another crack through whatever wall I’d built to protect myself. “Oh, god. We can’t go back.”</p>
<p>“We gotta keep moving forward.”</p>
<p>“That’s <i>terrifying</i>.”</p>
<p>“Not like we have a choice, though.”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” she mutters, watching the water lap at the cliffside below her, before turning back to me. She draws her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, curling in on herself for protection or comfort (or a mix of both). “What about you? Are you afraid of that too?”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid of a lot of things,” I admit, eyeing the edge of the cliff and the water I can see beyond it. “Some of it stupid, but...you know. That can’t be helped.” The cities on the horizon, though having always been there, seem so far away all of a sudden. “All I can really do is dive in headfirst and hope for the best.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be with you,” she proclaims suddenly, confident and certain in the way I’ve come to associate with her. “Whatever happens here on out, I’ll be with you.”</p>
<p>“...Thanks,” is all I can think to say for the first moment, and the way she beams at me pulls a smile onto my face as well. “And, uh...I’ll be with you too. All the way.”</p>
<p>“All the way,” she repeats, before pushing herself up from the ground and dusting herself off. The hand she offers to me is steady, and when I stand it’s with a newfound determination settled in my chest.</p>
<p>Ignoring the water, I turn to the path that will lead us onward, and we continue on towards whatever the future has in mind for us.</p>
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